


My Brothers Keeper

by Leticheecopae



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Angst, Brain Injury, Mental Illness, Moirails, Sadstuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-25
Updated: 2012-09-25
Packaged: 2017-11-15 01:04:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/521431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leticheecopae/pseuds/Leticheecopae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three drabbles based on the moirallegiance between Kurloz and Mituna.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Filling in the Cracks

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies for any misspellings. The grammar is supposed to be wonky. Enjoy

Their heads were almost touching as Kurloz kept Mituna Still.

 _You can’t keep eating the mind honey, it’s not good for you._ The words skittered through the jumbled mind of Mituna, the sound of Kurloz voice before he had sewn his mouth shut running in between the cracks that his psionics had burnt out.

 _But it helps. Like you help. Lets me think for more than. Two god. Damn, minutes about, one thing before it all goes. Shifty and then its you and me and the thing and…and…and why can I never. Remember. The thing? Why does it. Hurt, so much?_ And its a small reprieve to just think back at him, so much easier then trying to string words together even if it is still hard to do in his head because not everything there is quite connecting.

 _Shhhh. It’s okay. Just listen. Just listen._ And Mituna does listen, he listens to a blissful silence that leaves him standing still, staring into his moirail’s eyes as Kurloz keeps him steady; on hand on his shoulder, the other around his waist. And for that short time that he is there, actually there and not missing like he has been for so long, Mituna can silence everything. He doesn’t have to remember, doesn’t have to think, because the silence fills the cracks and severs every painful connection.

\---------

Based off of this picture: http://yummytomatoes.tumblr.com/post/32235455424


	2. Dichotomy of Color

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes when he can't remember, Kurloz does it for him.

It was red right? No blue. Red, blue. What was red again? It was the bright one right? Or was that yellow? Maybe yellow was his favorite or maybe...maybe...

Mituna sits on his floor with his helmet in hand, staring at the glass that wasn’t glass and its shiny surface. He is trying to remember colors, any colors, but he can’t. It’s all one big grey scale that makes his head hurt. But the shades of grey are different, which means they had once been colors, because all shades were just colors turned down really really low. Right? That was right, right?

That isn’t the issue though. The issue is he can’t remember his favorite, his real favorite, the one that he had like best and should still like best, but can’t because everything hurts too much when he thinks too hard. He wants his board, wants to try and grind and knock himself out again. At least when he is knocked out he doesn’t have to think. But the board is with Latula, who has taken it to Zah...Zah...

The helmet bounces away as he holds his head. He was blue, the Zah guy. Blue, which he liked. But then Latula has the red glasses he liked, or were those blue and the Zah guy red? Why can’t he remember?

 _Calm down._ The words are like balm to the open wound of his brain as colds hands settle on his shoulder, the chill spreading through the fabric.

“I don’t want to, think, more any. I d-don’t anymore. Why I,” the fingers to his temples make him quiet and go still.

 _With this my brother._ And the words are so cool.

_What’s my favorite .Color? I, I can’t re-remem, what is?_

_Shhhhh, shhhhh,_ The hands on his back make him sigh as he relaxes, the ends of Kurloz’s hair tickle his neck as his moirail rests his chin on his shoulder. _You never had one, you had two._ The words are calm and slow.

“B-but no one hads two. Favorite favorite. Can’t have two favorite. Can I?” And the words tumble out his mouth and through his head.

 _Yes you can._ Kurloz assures him pulling him back against his chest and holding him tight. _Yes you can. Now just close your eyes, lets remember them together._ Mituna doesn’t fight the command, he follows it quickly, eyes closing and head resting back on Kurloz’s chest, rising with his breathing. The grey behind his eyes shifts, slowly changing and gradually growing in shade and color till red and blue are swirling in front of him, like he remembered. Like he should remember, because he isn’t remembering, Kurloz is doing that for him. That doesn’t matter though as the colors seep into his head, because he is seeing them, and enjoying them. He believes that it is okay to have more than one favorite, that it is okay to like them both equally.

Slowly they wrap him up, one cool and one warm, lulling him to sleep. Even when they bleed together, mixing into a color he can’t remember the name of that slides into the cracks of his brain like thick, achingly numing balm. He just sits there and lets them change, lets them pull apart and come back together and put him to sleep, because he isn’t the one who has to remember.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few years ago I was in a car accident and had a concussion. When I think about writing Mituna, I try and remember the 48 hours that are really more like still frames than actual memories. Most of what I know about those days I don't personally remember, the friends who watched over me do. I think Mituna's mind is much like mine was with the concussion, times a hundred, with him just barely being able to function around the damage at times.


	3. Him, His, He

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No one listened till he was a burn out, and then he wasn't him anymore.

It’s blinding, the pain, the flare, but he keeps going, because that’s his job. He is the one who is supposed to help protect their ignorant asses from the rest of the world. They didn’t want to listen? Well fine. Fuck them.

But not really. He can’t not protect them, not when this is happening, not when He...when He...who’s He again?

Everything is burning out, hot and cold at the same time as his world blurs and he isn’t seeing anymore, all he knows is he is protecting, keeping something back. Something bad. Something that is going to doom them all. But in the process he is losing himself, knows he is, and only looks back for a moment. He sees Latula, laughing as she zips past him down the hill, a perfect grind on a park bench and brilliant landing on two wheels. Then the image is gone, burned up, and he goes along with it.

“Hey, hey! Come on motherfucker wake up,” The words should make sense, they should be familiar, but who is this? “Oh my Massiah’s bring my little brother back to me. Let me keep him just a little while longer.” He is seeing something grey, white, black. It feels like a hoofbeast kicked him in the head, but what is a hoofbeast? Who’s he? He shifts against whoever is holding him and hisses a bit from the pounding in his head. “Oh thank the Massiah’s. You scared me there my little brother, what will all the miracles pouring from your eyes. How are you doing?”

He blinks a few times, stares at this face that he should know but doesn’t. He just...can’t...grasp...

“Who you am I?” And the words sound like something that is called...bees. Yes, bees that sting and his brain is stinging like bees because bees are...are...

“No...no Mituna.”

“No Mit...Mit...Mit me?” And he doesn't understand why there is dark liquid leaking out of those things that are eyes, though he thinks that his are too because they are sticky, like honey, and he really want some honey, just had some didn’t he? Licking his lips he finds his mouth is sweet, flavored, and the grey guy is holding him too tight and he doesn’t like it but...but its familiar. This is a good guy. Right?

“I’m so sorry my little brother.” And he runs his hands beneath Mituna’s eyes, pulls off something that makes the world too bright and he yelps, burying his face in a chest that is so familiar he can almost remember.

“I-I sorry.” Mituna repeats and sobs because he doesn’t understand. Doesn’t understand why the girl with skateboard is crying, why people shake their heads. Doesn’t understand why suddenly the grey guy, Kur...Kur...why he comes to him a few days later with black lines on his mouth and the dark lines down his eyes. Its easier to talk to him now, when his lips don’t move, but its not right.

He can’t remember why he has this buzzing in his head that slowly brings bits and pieces back, but there is something he knows. That something has been permanently knocked out, burned out. Knows that he is not really him anymore, not the Mituna people keep calling him. And it is His fault...whoever He is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is my personal headcanon whatever nightmare Kurloz had came after what happened with Mituna, causing him to do the strange scream and make Meulin go deaf. Without a moirail he just went off the deep end, biting off his own tongue and sewing his mouth shut when there was no one he could talk to, and the one he needed could barely remember his name.


End file.
